Bill Bailey

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Well try and have a good Christmas anyway. And my regards to the missis.’

  ‘Thanks. And you, Barney. And you. And thanks for all the good work.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Oh, you’re welcome.’

  On this they parted, and as Bill approached his office he straightened his tie and stretched his neck out of his collar. Then, pushing the door open, he said, ‘Mrs Brown.’

  He had forgotten for the moment to revert back to his natural way of speaking.

  She rose from her chair, saying, ‘I hope I haven’t called at an inconvenient time?’

  ‘Well you’re lucky to find me.’ He motioned with his hand that she should again be seated. Then he sat down behind his desk, saying, ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Oh, nothing in particular, Mr Bailey. I just called to ask if you have an estimate out yet for the damage done to your show house.’

  ‘No. It’s too short a time. My accountant has already started his Christmas holiday and there won’t be anything doing here until the New Year. I’ll send the damage to your husband then.’

  ‘That is really the point I came to make: I would prefer that you send the bill and any future correspondence to me.’

  He narrowed his eyes at her as he said slowly, ‘You’re comin’ down hard on him, aren’t you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just what I say. If I’m to go by what you said the other night, you’re removing him to London.’

  Her face became stiff as she said, ‘On that occasion I explained that I…we’ve many concerns in the South.’

  ‘And all of them under your name?’

  Her face now slipped into a tight smile as she said, ‘You’re a very discerning man, Mr Bailey.’

  His voice was somewhat grim as he replied, ‘It wouldn’t take a very discerning man to realise who wears the pants in your household, ma’am.’

  ‘That’s what I like about you, Mr Bailey, you don’t mince words. You are what you are and you’re not ashamed of it. You’ll go places in the end, that is if you don’t remain in the North. There are no real openings for men of your calibre here.’

  ‘You don’t say!’ That return was cheap but for the moment he couldn’t find words with which to combat this woman. Yet he felt he already knew a number of things about her and one in particular he was refuting in his mind, while at the same time was telling himself he was no fool where women were concerned.

  She had her hand on the side of the desk now. It was long and slim and the only ring on it was her wedding ring. She had apparently noticed the direction of his gaze for she lifted her hand and, holding it before her face, she looked at it; and then twisting the ring around, she said quietly, ‘There should be a law passed to delete from the wedding ceremony this band of bondage.’

  He gave a short laugh now as he said, ‘You look on it as a bondage, Mrs Brown? Well, I think that can work both ways. But there’s no need for anybody to put up with bondage these days, either man or woman; there’s always the divorce courts.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. You’ve explained it.’

  ‘How d’you know that?’ The muscles of his jaws were tight now as he stared at her.

  ‘Oh, one moves around here and there, little bits of gossip you know. Most women’s entertainment in life is made up of gossip. I know quite a bit about you, Mr Bailey. I know that you are an ambitious man. And that you’ll be hard put to find work once this estate’s finished. Money is very tight in the North. I don’t have to point that out to you and I can’t see the corporation stepping in. As for finance companies, apart from the present one, once your business is finished they’ll be moving too. So I can’t see where your next, at least substantial, job is coming from.’

  He was on his feet now. However, she didn’t move, but she looked up at him where he was standing at the side of the desk, and her voice changed and her manner seemed to melt as she said, ‘Believe me, Mr Bailey, I am not trying to be nasty or rub it in. But honestly I think you, with your special kind of drive, are wasted here in this part of the country. And quite candidly the main object of my being here today is to offer you better prospects in one of my companies in the South.’

  He felt his jaw dropping just the slightest and he snapped it closed before asking quietly, ‘And does Mr Brown agree to your suggestion?’

  She didn’t answer; but rising slowly, she hitched the shoulders of her mink coat around her neck, turned up the collar at the back, wrapped the wide fronts of the coat over her slim body; then, looking directly at him, she said, ‘I am divorcing Mr Brown on the grounds of infidelity.’ This time he couldn’t restrain his jaw from dropping. His mind was yelling at him, he hadn’t been wrong. My God! no, he hadn’t. What lengths some women would go to. There was one thing he was sure of now, he was really sorry for Brown. Yes, he was.

  What he said now definitely surprised her. His voice had a note of enquiry in it; it was low and his words were slightly spaced. ‘Are all business concerns in your name?’ He watched her pencilled eyebrows move upwards. She looked slightly to the side; then she smiled and said, ‘There speaks the businessman. Yes, yes, Mr Bailey, they’re all in my name, every one.’

  ‘Will he get a share?’

  Her gaze was even wider now. There was a smile on her face. ‘Very little. I’ve already told him if he takes me to court he will get less than I will allow him in redundancy pay. After all, he’s only been a mouthpiece-manager; I have seen to the businesses from the back room, so to speak.’

  ‘You know something, Mrs Brown?’ His voice was still and quiet.

  Her face was bright and her lips apart in a smile when, looking at him straight in the face, she said, ‘No, Mr Bailey. You tell me.’

  Going to the door now, he opened it; then turning to her, he said, ‘I’m damned sorry for your husband. I’ve always hated his guts but I can understand his actions now, for living with you, he had to take it out on somebody. And let me tell you, Mrs Brown, I’m wide awake to what you’re offering me, and if you were the last woman on God’s earth I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole…Have a happy Christmas.’

  When he had first seen her he had admired her pale alabaster-type skin, but now her whole face was scarlet, her eyes were blazing.

  ‘How dare you!’

  ‘I dare, Mrs Brown, because I’m a man who’s had a number of women through my hands, so to speak. Like siftin’ for gold dust, you know. And at last I’ve found a nugget. But my experience has taught me to recognise dross when I see it. One last word, Mrs Brown, if you go through with that divorce, you’ll never get another puppet like the one you’ve got now…’

  He watched her march to the car; and it seemed she couldn’t even have taken her seat before it swung round, just missed a piece of heavy machinery, and sped out of the gates.

  Sitting down once more at his desk, he held his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe it. But yes, he could. And Brown. My God! What he must have gone through. No wonder he was the bastard he was. Wait till he told Fiona…Should he tell her? No, no, he wouldn’t, not now anyway. Sometime in the future. He’d make a big laugh over it.

  But Madam Brown was right about one thing: when this big job finished there wouldn’t be a similar one on his doorstep. That would mean sacking men. But sufficient unto the day the evil thereof, for he had enough on his plate to worry about at the moment. Fiona was his main concern…

  But that woman! If she had stripped off before him she couldn’t have made the offer more clear. And to him with his Liverpudlian voice and as brash as they came, because he knew himself. Oh aye, he knew himself, both inside and out. And he had no desire to change. He’d had a little experience of altering his image this morning, and that had been too much like hard work

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Christmas Day started at six o’clock, at least for the children. There was no knocking, or ‘May I come in?’ but a small avalanche descended on the bed. Apart from carrying things, Mark was wheeling
a bicycle which he found outside his bedroom door; Katie had a pair of ballet shoes hanging round her neck, a fur hat on her head, one hand in a fur muff and both arms supporting numerous gifts; Willie was pushing a smaller bicycle, and over its handlebars was draped a space suit, and across its seat lay a large puppet; Mamie came in attired in an imitation fur coat and hat, nursing a doll on each arm. And bedlam came second best in the source of noise pervading the room for the next hour, until at last, shouting above the mêlée, Bill cried, ‘Get this clutter back to the playroom! Your mother wants a cup of tea.’

  ‘I can make it, Dad.’

  A silence came on the room, and they all looked at Willie’s flushed face, and when he, tossing himself from side to side, muttered, ‘Well, ’cos you are in a way,’ Bill said, ‘Yes I am in a way, and it sounds…well, good coming from you.’

  ‘Better than Mr Bill?’

  ‘Yes, Willie, better than Mr Bill.’

  ‘What’s the matter, Mam?’ Willie was addressing his mother now. ‘You’re going to howl.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Fiona’s voice was definite. ‘Howl? Why should I howl? But I’ll tell you what, Willie, I think that’s the best Christmas box I’ve ever had.’

  ‘You haven’t had ours yet. They’re downstairs around the tree. I spent a lot on yours.’

  ‘Did you Willie? Well, I’m sure I’ll love it. But what I want most at the moment is that cup of tea, so away you go and make it, and take Mamie with you.’

  The other two didn’t follow Willie but they stood rather sheepishly looking at Bill, then, with a rush Katie threw her arms about his waist muttering, ‘Dad. Dad.’ But as Bill bent to kiss her Mark grabbed her arm crying, ‘Come on, pick up your things,’ and when surprisingly she obeyed him without any comment and they were both scrambling from the room, Mark who was now pushing his bike turned and grinning at Bill said, ‘Be seeing you…Dad.’ Bill didn’t laugh but he stood by the side of the bed and he nipped on his lip as he asked her, ‘Did you put them up to that?’

  ‘No no. Honest. I never dreamt of it.’

  ‘Well! Now I feel sort of established. And I can tell you this, I’ll never have a better Christmas box, no matter how long I live. Happy Christmas, love.’ He bent and kissed her gently on the lips…

  And that was the beginning of a long day. There was the usual business of preparing dinner, and there were nine sitting down at the table, for Nell and Mr and Mrs Paget had joined them. After the meal, which went off with a great deal of laughter and jollity, especially reading out the riddles from the crackers, there was the usual chore of washing up. And this was done by Bill, Mark and Mr Paget, while Katie, Willie, and Mamie contented themselves in the playroom, thus leaving Fiona in the sitting room with Mrs Paget and Nell.

  It was when the conversation touched on Fiona going into hospital that Nell, nudging her mother-in-law, said, ‘Tell Fiona about the light.’

  ‘Oh, no, no…really!’

  ‘Oh, Mam, go on.’ Then turning to Fiona, Nell added, ‘She never swears, never. It’s funny. I’ve never heard her, not once. Here, take another sip of your port, Mam, and tell her. Go on.’

  Mrs Paget sipped her port, giggled, then said, ‘Well, Fiona, you know about this light they’re using now for internal examinations; well, there I was in the theatre lying face down on the operating table and Mr Corbit, the specialist, was talking to me…as they do, you know, not expecting any answers. “Now I am going to insert this light, Mrs Paget,” he said. “It won’t hurt; it will just enable me to look around…Just relax now. That’s it, just relax.”

  ‘Well, there was a sister and a nurse present and a young doctor, and as the specialist pushed this thing up’—she giggled again—‘he told them what he was looking for.’ She took another sip of the port before going on. ‘You know, as I said, he said it didn’t hurt, well it didn’t, not at first, it was just uncomfortable, but all of a sudden he gave it a push and cried out, “Ah! that’s it. It’s all lit up!” As you can imagine I let out a good imitation of a scream, but at the same time my mind, jumping back to the review of the Royal Navy, at Portsmouth, I think it was, oh many years ago, when a BBC announcer was describing the lights going up on the ships. He got excited and he said—’ She almost choked now and she looked from one to the other and spluttered as she ended, ‘“The whole bloody fleet’s lit up!” Oh, that poor fella. He got the sack, I think, because, you know language such as that was unheard of on the BBC in those days.’

  Nell and Fiona were both laughing with her now as she went on, ‘You see it was because I thought about this that I began to shake, and the specialist, he pulled the thing out quick because he must have imagined I was having a fit or something. And when the nurses turned me over, there I was, my face running with tears, and when he said, “You all right Mrs Paget?” what do you think I said? and I hadn’t had any’—she lifted her glass—‘port that day. But I said, “The whole bloody fleet’s lit up!” Then, you wouldn’t believe it, but he threw his head back, put his arm around me and he roared. You see, he was in his sixties and knew what I was laughing about, but the others didn’t. And when he said, “That was a night wasn’t it, when the whole bloody fleet was lit up,” you should have seen the look on their faces. Oh, dear! dear! it’s many a year since I’ve laughed like that. I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t drink port.’

  They had their heads together now and the tears were running freely down their faces, and Fiona thought how strange it was that you never really know people, for who would imagine this refined and delicate-looking woman coming out with a thing like that. She was so genteel.

  Oh, it was a nice Christmas Day. If only there wasn’t tomorrow.

  It was Willie’s turn to keep them amused, and he did at teatime and later on when there were charades. And the surprise of the evening, even to Bill and Fiona, was the appearance of Laurel and Hardy. Willie of course was Laurel, and Mark a pillow-stuffed Hardy. And their acting and the patter which must have been well rehearsed caused them all to laugh so much that when Fiona bent over double Bill bent too and whispered, ‘You all right?’ And partly straightening up, she gasped, ‘Never better, Bill. Never better. The whole bloody fleet’s lit up.’

  ‘What? The body’s flattened up? What d’you mean?’

  ‘Oh, Bill, be quiet. I’ll tell you later.’

  ‘Now, give over; or you’ll make yourself ill.’

  Later, when Mr and Mrs Paget said their goodnights, they both confirmed they had never had such a happy Christmas Day that they could remember. Nell didn’t say anything; she just kissed Fiona, looked at Bill, then punched him in the chest and went out.

  And Katie expressed the thoughts of them all: when Fiona went to kiss her goodnight, she put her arms around her neck and said, ‘It’s been a lovely, lovely day, Mam. Thank you.’

  It was all too much.

  Like a child who had overmuch excitement, she sat on the edge of her bed as she tried in vain to prevent herself from crying; but by the time Bill entered the room she had not only dried her eyes but creamed her face and was in bed awaiting him. For a time they lay quiet, resting in each other’s arms; then her voice low, she said, ‘Bill, I want to talk.’

  ‘Look, love, you’ve had a long day. Won’t it keep?’

  ‘No; there won’t be any time tomorrow, no privacy.’

  ‘Well, what d’you want to say, love?’

  ‘I’m frightened, Bill.’

  ‘So am I, love. But really there’s not all that to be frightened of…or is there? Are you keepin’ something back?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’ve been keeping something back. I think I’ve got cancer.’

  The room was quiet, the house was quiet, the world was quiet.

  ‘Did he tell you that?’

  ‘Not exactly. When I asked him point blank, he said, “It could be.”’

  ‘Look. Look here.’ He pressed himself from her, raised his face from the pillow and, looking down into her eyes, said,
‘All right, let’s say it’s the worst, but they work miracles. Every day they’re working miracles.’

  ‘Bill, I’ve got to say this. If…if it was my breasts, I…I would hate it, but I would likely face it, but if it’s inside and what the consequences are after, I don’t think I’m up to taking it.’

  ‘Now look here, you’re up to takin’…’

  ‘Bill, please don’t raise your voice.’

  ‘I’m not raisin’ me voice, but you’re scarin’ the bloody wits out of me, woman.’

  ‘Well, you asked me to tell you the truth, and I don’t want it to come as a shock to you after. It’s better to know now I think. And so, I’ve thought things out and I’ve…I’ve talked to Nell. If anything happens…’

  ‘Shut up! will you.’

  ‘I won’t shut up, Bill. Listen to me, please. If anything happens she’ll see to the children, she’s promised me. And she’s a good woman, still young, so kind and nice…’

  ‘God Almighty!’ He lay back from her, put his hands above his head and gripped the back of the bedhead. ‘I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe this. You’ve got it into your head if anything happens to you I’d jump at Nell.’

  ‘No, not that way.’

  ‘Not that way, be damned! Look, I haven’t convinced you, all these months I haven’t convinced you, you’re the only one in me life. The only one I ever want in me life and nobody’s ever going to take your place. I’ll tell you something, and I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I’ll tell you something, that’s the second offer I’ve had in the last two days.’

  ‘What do you mean, the second offer?’

  ‘Well now, Mrs Brown called at the works. She offered me a job in London looking after her affairs or some such. And then she told me she’s divorcing him. I tell you if she had stripped off naked and done a belly dance she couldn’t have been more invitin’.’

  The bed started to shake. ‘Oh, Bill, Bill, stop it, stop it, I don’t believe a word of it. Mrs Brown!’